The Mentholated Nasopharyngitis Conundrum
by MissLaurenV
Summary: Amy is sick, and Sheldon knows one mentholated topical chest rub that could aid her recovery…


**Title:**The Mentholated Nasopharyngitis Conundrum

**Description:** Amy is sick, and Sheldon knows one mentholated topical chest rub that could aid her recovery…  
><strong><br>Author's Note:** First every one-shot fic! Just a quick little break from my multi-chapter fic; the idea for this story has been bugging me all day so I decided to churn it out. Enjoy and review!  
><strong><br>Disclaimer:** I do not own The Big Bang Theory, or any of its related characters.

* * *

><p><strong>The Mentholated Nasopharyngitis Conundrum<strong>

It had been seventeen hours since he had last heard from her.

Seventeen long, strenuous hours. One thousand and twenty minutes. Sixty one thousand, two hundred and forty three seconds, to be precise.

He had tried video calling her, texting her, sending her tweets and messages to her Facebook account. He had even tried calling her. Nothing. Not even a whisper of response.

Looking down at his watch, Sheldon sighed. It was four thirty in the afternoon on a Sunday, and no matter how hard he tried he just could not will himself to find something to do. His every thought, every moment, was spent thinking about _her _– why she hadn't gotten back to him, if she was okay.

Squirming in his spot, he huffed and folded his hands across his chest, staring at the large, mess of a whiteboard that was only meters from him. He tilted his head to the side, squinting. _So if 'x' is the product of 'v', divided by negative two… where 'a' is the constant angular acceleration… 'a' for 'Amy'…_

"Drat," he mumbled, rising out of his seat and heading for the bathroom.

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Leonard."

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Leonard."

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Leonard."

Through the frosted glass of the bathroom door, Sheldon heard a groan and the distinct sound of the toilet flushing. "What do you want, Sheldon?"

Sheldon fidgeted. "It has now been exactly seventeen hours, four minutes and twenty two seconds since I last heard from Amy."

Leonard opened the door, looking unimpressed. "So?"

"'So?' So I am concerned for her safety and wellbeing, that's 'so'." He replied, following his grumpy friend into the kitchen.

Sighing, Leonard pulled out a carton of juice from the fridge and poured a drink. "Sheldon, perhaps Amy needed some space – the two of you have been spending a lot of time together lately."

Sheldon looked at him, baffled. "Space? Why on earth would Amy require space?"

"I don't know," Leonard shrugged, "you can get a little… tedious from time to time."

Sheldon frowned and shook his head. "Excuse me – I'll have you know that Amy enjoys my company, and has not once referred to me as being 'tedious'. If anything it's quite the opposite; she finds me intellectually intriguing and fun."

Leonard chuckled and raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Fun?"

"Yes, fun." Sheldon glared, raising his chin slightly. "Needed some space… what a joke…"

Wandering past him, Leonard took a seat at his laptop and began typing, ignoring Sheldon's lingering presence. Sheldon mirrored him, sitting down at his computer seat. He shuffled awkwardly, crossing his arms. "Leonard, you have to take me to Amy's."

Leonard spun the chair toward him, an exasperated look on his face. "No, Sheldon I don't 'have' to take you –" He eyed his friend's troubled expression and softened. "You're really worried about her, aren't you?"

"Of course," Sheldon responded matter-of-a-factedly, "she is my girlfriend."

Picking up his jacket and keys, Leonard jerked his head toward the door. "Come on, I'll take you."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Sheldon found himself standing at Amy's door, ready to demand an honest answer for her lack of communication.<p>

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Amy."

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Amy."

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Amy."

Moments passed by without a response. Pressing his ear against her door, he couldn't hear a thing, not even a rustle. His heart began to race – what if something had gone terribly wrong? He decided to try again.

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Amy!"

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Amy!"

_Knock, knock, knock - _"Amy!"

Within seconds, the heavy door swung open and standing there, in her purple plaid pajamas, was Amy Farrah Fowler, grasping her head in her hands.

"Sheldon, what are you doing –"

He barged past her, throwing his jacket and bag onto her couch. Crossing his arms, he turned back to her and frowned. "What are _you _doing? Why haven't you been answering my calls, or my texts, or my tweets? Do you have _any_ idea just how distracted and concerned I have been over the past –" He checked his watch, "- seventeen hours, twenty minutes and thirty nine seconds? And here you are, at home in your apartment doing –"

Amy closed her eyes and sniffed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She breathed deeply through her mouth and looked at him with reddened eyes. It dawned on him then.

"Amy, are you ill?" He asked, eying her closely.

She strode past him toward the fridge and poured a glass of water. "Yes, Sheldon, I am ill. I believe I have a nasty case of nasopharyngitis."

He withdrew his hands from her counter and clasped them together in front of him, suddenly seeing germs sprawling across every inch of her apartment. "Alrighty then, guess I'd best be going –"

She swayed on the spot, and the cool, wet glass slipped through her hand, landing with a loud smash on the tiled floor. Instinctively, Sheldon caught her as she began to fall, and he heard her gasp for air. She was truly not well. "Or not – let me help you…"

Every muscle within his body was pleading him to retreat; the thought of catching her contagious cold petrifying him. Despite this, something convinced him to hold on tight. He slipped an arm under her knees and scooped her up, hearing her groan in protest. Carefully, he carried her to her bedroom, a room he had never entered before.

"Sheldon…" She murmured quietly, slipping out of consciousness. The red, textured covers of her bed were already thrown back – presumably from her answering the door – and he gently laid her back, wrapping the sheets around her tightly.

Immediately, he felt the dread set in and rushed for the bathroom, squirting four large pumps of hand wash into his palm and lathering it hastily. He spread the soap up his arms and scrubbed, then rinsed and repeated the process twice more. Finally, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror – disheveled and frantic – and stopped. He hung his head and sighed, frustrated. _Get a hold of yourself, Cooper._

Taking a deep breath, he quietly returned to Amy's room, slipping inside and closing the door. He looked around the room, which appeared to be perfectly organised and tidied, much like his own. She had a large mahogany bookshelf stacked full of everything from romance novels to encyclopedias and beside it was a well-kept set of drawers. Her bedside table featured a small lamp, her alarm clock and a book. Curious, he turned it over, to see what she was reading.

"'_The King of Desire'_ ," he read aloud, rolling his eyes at the bare-chested, long-haired, horse-back riding oaf on the front cover, courageously clutching his damsel in distress, "good Lord, Amy…"

Sitting tentatively on the edge of her bed, he watched her rest. Her long brown hair was splayed out across the pillow, and she was breathing heavily, stirring. Eyes fluttering open slowly, she jumped back when she noticed a presence on her bed, backing up into the head board. The fright caused her to begin coughing violently, and she covered her mouth. "Sheldon?" She spluttered, wheezing. "I thought you left?"

He resisted the urge to run back to the bathroom or reach for a tissue to cover his mouth. _Ran out of surgical masks in my emergency kit, darn. _"No, I'm still here, after you fainted I thought it would be best that I stay and make sure you don't injure yourself."

She gave him a faint smile and pushed herself up weakly. Sniffling again, she reached into her drawer and pulled out an anti-bacterial hand sanitizer, squeezing some into her hand and rubbing them together. "I fainted? Oh, dear…"

Unable to resist, Sheldon grabbed the sanitizer and used some himself, instantly feeling better. "Yes, and then I brought you in here. You know, you could have saved yourself a lot of hassle by simply replying to one of my forms of communication –"

Through tired eyes, she glared at him. "Sheldon, I'm sick, I haven't check my phone in hours. And you carried me in here?" She frowned, tilting her head. "You're vehemently against physical contact."

Sheldon shrugged, unsure of how to respond. "Well, this does fall under the boo boos and ouchies clause of our Relationship Agreement." He looked around awkwardly, keen to change the topic of conversation. "I saw that book you're reading – really, Amy, a romance novel?"

Amy coughed again and her face reddened. "It is quite healthy for a woman to explore her more… sensual side. Plus, it kind of reminded me of something…"

He scrunched his nose in disapproval, missing her inference to their recent encounter. Standing, he headed back for the kitchen. "Would you like a hot beverage?"

"Sure." She replied, settling back under the covers.

In her kitchen, Sheldon mopped up the water and swept the broken glass into the bin, and the fixed her an herbal tea. As he headed back to her room, he reached above her fridge for her medicine chest, to check for anything that may aid in her recovery.

Returning to bedroom, he placed the herbal tea on her night stand and took a seat once again. "Here," he said, handing her two pain killer capsules, "this should help a little."

She took them gratefully and swallowed them down, grimacing as they caught in her throat. "Thank you," she said, between coughs, putting a hand to her painful, heavy chest.

Sheldon sighed. "Lay back," he instructed, and she obeyed, "close your eyes and try to get some rest."

She looked up at him with big eyes. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

"Not for a while," he replied, "now try to sleep."

Amy closed her eyes and sank into the pillows, her little world spinning around her. Having Sheldon here, helping her, caring for her… it was beyond her imagination. If only she was in better health so she could appreciate it fully…

Abruptly, she felt warm hands unfastening the buttons of her pajama top beneath her neck, one at a time, and her eyes flew open. Fearful, he leapt back and gave her a sheepish smile. "Sheldon, what are you doing?"

He held up a small, blue tub. "Vapor Rub… for your chest…" He blinked, uncomfortable with her stare. "Whenever I have any sort of chest infection or persistent cough, my mother would rub Vapor Rub on my chest… so…"

Amy looked at him for a moment, attempting to determine the true nature of his endeavors. He shifted awkwardly and gave her a tiny, innocent smile. _Yep, _she thought, _no sinister motives here. _"Alright."

Relaxing back once again, she reached for the remaining buttons, slowly flicking them undone down to her sternum. She left the plaid shirt open in a 'v', exposing her flesh beyond where here bra would normally rest against her chest. He watched her closely, seemingly captivated by the process. "You're not wearing a brassiere…"

Heart racing, breathing deep, Amy shook her head. "Of course not… I don't wear them to bed."

Sheldon blinked and broke out of his trance, focusing his attention on the Vapor Rub. "Fascinating…"

Sniffling quietly again, Amy tugged the hair out from around her neck and tied it back with an elastic. She watched – awestruck – as Sheldon dipped his fingers into the tub and tenderly, ever so gently, rubbed the gel on her fair skin in a circular motion. Breathing in the strong menthol scent, she began to breathe easier, although she was positive he could feel her heart thumping beneath his fingers.

Sheldon was mesmerized. He watched his hand glide over her soft skin, dusted with tiny freckles and found himself digressing from his circular motion up toward her collar bone, flowing into the crook of the bone and back again. Boldly, he swept his fingers lower, sneaking beneath the very edge of her top and skirting the soft, supple skin that was her breast. He felt his body react to the contact, a heat searing between his legs and straining against his pants.

Her breathing – clearer now - hitched as he mirrored the movement on the other side, his hand delving a little further beneath the fabric, lingering a little longer. Involuntarily, she gasped quietly and his eyes shot up to hers, tugging his hand away as if he had been scorned.

Amy eyed him, remaining very still. "I think we can say pretty conclusively that you have finally made second base."

He swallowed, hard, and nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her gaze. The feeling between his legs was near unbearable, though not completely unfamiliar, and he pursed his lips. _Get a grip on your urges, Cooper._

Amy trailed her eyes along his body; from his lips down to his pants, which were most certainly looking _different _at that very moment. Her eyes snapped back to his ashamed, unsure ones, and she took his hand, guiding it back underneath her top and along the mound of her breast. He breathed deeply and quickly, so incredibly out of his depth. "Don't stop," she whispered, allowing him to take over.

"Amy…" He whispered hoarsely, and she looked up at him, biting her lip. Pushing up on her elbows, she sat up slightly, inches from his lips. He – most likely accidentally – brushed his thumb over the peak of her nipple and that was it. She pressed her lips to his in a firm, confident kiss, dragging him down on top of her roughly. Responding instantly, instinctively, Sheldon kissed her back – fear of germs and contamination suddenly overwhelmed by something stronger, something more primal.

This was new, _so _new. The emotions racked his mind; rendering him unable to think, unable to rationalize. Her soft lips were moving against him, more desperate now, and he felt her tongue graze against his bottom lip. The contact sent shivers down his spine and he ground himself against her. Hands everywhere, tugging at clothes, covers, skin… it was too much.

He backed away, kneeling in front of her near topless form on the bed. She was a mess – hair disheveled, clothing askew, panting – and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Shaking his head slowly, he pushed off the side of the bed and proceeded to tuck her in tightly.

She smirked at him, buttoning her shirt and curling into the covers. "You're going to get sick now, you know that right?"

Sitting on the edge of the bed, still breathless, he looked at her. "I know."


End file.
